


Hot Metal

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Harry Potter, Buff Draco Malfoy, Confused Draco Malfoy, Failed Flirting from Harry, Harry Potter Can’t Deal With Draco Malfoy, M/M, Magical Blacksmith Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Somewhat crack lol, Top Draco Malfoy, WizTube Chef Harry Potter, morosexual Draco Malfoy, smut with mild plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-24 05:43:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: Harry Can’t Deal with the vision of Malfoy hot and sweaty at work in his blacksmithing forge. Meanwhile, Draco is entirely perplexed with Potter’s odd behaviour.





	Hot Metal

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually from a [Draco Tops Harry](https://dracotops-harry.livejournal.com/tag/%5Badmin%5D%20fest-2019) prompt that I had submitted but never came to be. I had a burst of Mood and decided to write it:
>
>> Buff blacksmith!Draco. Using magic, Draco can handle fire and hot metal directly, working to make magic infused metal items, like gates and swords and knives.
>> 
>> Enter Harry who needs new gates, or metal railings, or knives (if knives--chef Harry?), and he gets directed to a certain forge, which he enters in the middle of Draco working topless.
> 
> Beta’ed by [WeasleyWench](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeasleyWench). All remaining errors are my own 

Harry grasped his papers as he crossed the threshold of the huge warehouse-like forge. Word on the waves was that this was the _best_ place to get any metal work done, and numerous commenters on Harry’s wizdeos had suggested it.

“Hello?” Sweat immediately started beading across Harry’s forehead and palms in the heat of the building.

“Give me a moment,” came a voice. Its hinting familiarity sent a shiver through Harry’s body. 

There was the sound of banging and a hiss. A few moments later, movement from around the large equipment that scattered the forge caught Harry’s eye. He shifted on his toes, trying to catch who it was.

“Er, I was wondering if I could commission something from you, and take some wizdeos, too—” Harry’s throat strangled as his brain came to a halt.

It was _Draco Malfoy_. Long blond hair escaped from a messy braid slung over one shoulder. Sweat gleamed across Malfoy’s _naked chest and shoulders_ , and his arms—Harry could _die_ for those arms. Harry licked his lips as his eyes traced down Malfoy’s chest.

Malfoy’s arm flexed as he raised it. The temperature around them cooled slightly, and a shirt came whizzing through the air. To Harry’s disappointment, Malfoy slipped the shirt on, buttons threading themselves up far too much.

“You shouldn’t have _entered_ my workshop,” Malfoy said, scowling. “It’s _dangerous_.” He strode over and nudged Harry back out.

Harry stumbled, moving just in time to miss touching Malfoy. “Well you know me, always heading into danger,” his mouth said. His right eye winked.

Malfoy blinked at him, brows drawing together. He gave the slightest shake of his head and walked over to the chairs and table set in the little garden adjacent to the forge. “Take a seat, Potter.”

Harry took the seat right next to Malfoy and made sure their knees bumped under the table. He handed over his papers: details he had spent a while (read: under 15 minutes) brainstorming for what he wanted as his ultimate cheffy knife. When Malfoy’s eyes dipped down to read, Harry took the opportunity to take in Malfoy’s glorious shoulders, so far from the bony Malfoy last Harry had seen him.

Malfoy’s shoulders rolled back in a shrug and he looked up. He pulled a face when he caught Harry looking, and conjured a towel to wipe his face.

“This is straightforward,” Malfoy said. “I’ve made dozens of knives previously.”

“Can you _really_ charm it to sheen with the rainbow?”

Malfoy snorted. “That would _not_ be food safe, Potter. I could forge it in a few days.”

“ _Exactly_ like in my drawing?”

“No,” Malfoy said. “I’m _not_ making you a sword facsimile. It shall be something much more tasteful.”

Harry laughed. “Well, tasteful’s _exactly_ what I’m going for. Just bill my Gringotts account directly,” he said. He rummaged into one of his Extended pockets and took out his camera. “If you’re willing for me to capture some of the cool parts?”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “To whom are you taking that hypothetical footage _to_?”

Harry pouted. “Aw, come on, Malfoy. I’m on WizTube!”

“How frightfully modern of you.” Malfoy shook his head. “It’s too dangerous and _distracting_.”

Harry grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. He leaned over into Malfoy’s personal space. “ _Oh_ , I’m distracting, am I?”

“Yes,” Malfoy said, leaning back. “You’ll get mauled by one of my contraptions.”

“I’m only _filming_ , not touching,” Harry insisted. _Yet, anyway_. “Don’t you have a safety briefing you can take me through?” Harry looked up through his lashes.

Malfoy bit his bottom lip, frowned at himself, and looked away. “If you _insist_.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come back tomorrow, 8am, and we’ll get started right away.” He stood up and collected the papers.

Harry smiled broadly, standing up too. “Brilliant, Malfoy.” He held out his hand. Malfoy took it; but Harry didn’t shake it, instead losing himself in Malfoy’s silver-metalgrey eyes. Silver metal eyes...it made _perfect_ sense that Malfoy would be a blacksmith...

Malfoy shook Harry’s hand. “I do believe you’re distracting _yourself_ , Potter,” he snorted.

Harry jolted back into the present, and laughed, cheeks heating. “Sorry, Malfoy.” He let go out Malfoy’s hand and stepped back before he could embarrass himself further—unless Malfoy _liked_ wizards who embarrassed themselves?

“And _don’t_ enter my workshop until my word,” Malfoy said.

“Yes, sir!” Harry said. He Apparated at Malfoy’s bewildered expression, and landed back in his bedroom.

With a groan, Harry flopped face-down on his bed. Images of Malfoy hot and sweaty floated through his mind. Grinning, Harry started to plot for the next day to come.

* * *

Draco wiped his forehead, wary of Potter and the round lens of his wizarding camera, _watching_ him. He had given Potter the safety drill: but it remained to be seen if Potter _followed_ it.

Draco’s forge was burning hot, a heat that Draco transfused into the billet of Damascus steel. Heat loosened the bonds between the atoms, and the steel softened, right up to the point before it would turn molten. The most difficult component of Potter’s task was right at the beginning: Draco needed to manipulate the softened steel, with purpose as the movement of glaciers, such that the pattern of bonds of the carbon and iron became the shimmering imagery of lush flowers Potter had wanted on the steel.

Draco scowled when Potter moved right up against his fingers, camera narrowed in.

“Just pretend I’m not here!” Potter said, giving a little wave and wiggle of his fingers.

Draco scoffed and focused on his task. In his mind’s eye, he could see the slight differences in the hot steel: it loved him, moving at his command. Eventually, it was done. Draco’s fingers tugged across the surface, and heat pulled away. The steel became solid again, albeit still glowing yellow.

“Hey, Malfoy,” Potter said.

Draco sighed. “Yes, Potter?”

“Can you do the thing with the water?”

Draco stared at him. “ _Pardon?_ ”

“The whoosh! It’s dramatic. Good for film,” Potter said.

“Muggles use it to harden metal,” Draco said. “If I do that _now_ , it’ll break.”

Potter pouted, his bottom lip full.

Draco looked away. “ _No,_ Potter.” He picked up the thinned metal and moved over to his anvil. The anvil was right next to the forge; and it was even hotter.

“ _Woo_ , it’s hot,” Potter said.

“Let me ramp up the cooling charms, then—”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Potter said. He took off his jumper, and started unbuttoning his shirt. “This is fine, right?” All too soon, Draco could see the warm gold of Potter’s chest and the dusky pink of his nipples.

“Stand back in case something burns you,” Draco said. With tongs to keep the metal in place, Draco began hammering. Some way through the process, he shed his shirt, too—it was _his_ forge, after all.

It was early afternoon by the time he was done. He carried the metal into the forge, tweaking its temperature just right, and then moved it under a leaky air regulation charm, so that the metal would cool slowly.

“No more metal work for today,” Draco told Potter. “We need to wait til tomorrow for this to cool.”

Potter nodded, but he wasn’t looking at Draco’s face. Instead, he was peering into his camera, which was pointed at Draco instead of the cooling steel.

“That means _scram_ , Potter,” Draco said, hands on hips. That was when he remembered he was topless. With a snap, his forge went off, and the temperature cooled. Draco shot a quick cleaning charm over himself before putting his shirt back on.

“ _Aww_ ,” Potter pouted. “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

“Other commissions,” Draco said. “I would imagine _you_ have work to do, as well.”

Potter sighed, pulling his shoulders back, chest up. “I suppose I do.” He paused.

Draco looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir,” Potter said, finally putting his shirt back on. “Tomorrow, same time, then?”

“Must you film _everything?_ ”

“Can’t I? You’re going to do it, anyway.” Potter had those big green eyes again.

“Tomorrow, 8am,” he said gruffly. “Now out with you, Potter.”

Potter gave him with a winning smile.

* * *

The next day was grinding down the blade. There was no hammer, only the constant whirr of belts with varying grades of coarseness.

And then—finally—when Draco was happy with the narrowness, the smoothness, and the primary sharpness of the blade, he stopped and went over to fire up the forge.

Potter trotted after him. “What now?”

“The point you’ve been waiting for,” Draco drawled. While the forge was heating up, Draco conjured a bucket of cold water. He placed the blade into the forge, making sure the flames heated itevenly. Then, he pulled out the hot metal and thrust it into the water. Steam hissed, billowing white into the air. He held it there for a few moments longer, till it was sufficiently cooled, and moved it back into the forge _again_. The process repeated a few more times, at lower temperatures, until the blade was tempered.

And then, _that_ part was done.

“It’s not finished yet. But almost,” he said.

Potter grinned, eyes shining. “That was amazing, Malfoy! And it looks so good!”

Draco looked at him. “Somehow, your words fill me with dread,” he said drawled.

“Yeah?” Potter had the gall to grin. His eyes dipped down to Draco’s chest.

Draco snorted. “I’m off to lunch, now—”

“Wait! I have something for you.” Potter scrambled around his pockets and pulled out a large bag. “I bought you food!”

“Leftovers.”

“I can cast a perfectly good preservation charm,” Potter rolled his eyes. “I had a cooking-shoot for my WizTube channel just last night. I thought about you.” Potter’s head ducked down a little, a smile curling up his lips.

“Out, Potter,” Draco said, nudging Potter along with a light touch on his shoulder. “I’m _not_ going to eat this in my workshop.”

Potter’s shoulders pushed back, and he grinned, eyes crinkling. “So you _are_ going to eat it.”

“All the better to inform _your_ viewers that your food tastes horrible,” Draco drawled.

Potter snorted, rolling his eyes. “If you say so, Malfoy,” he said, smiling.

Potter’s little smiles made Draco feel lightheaded. He looked away and hustled Potter back out to the chairs and table outside the workshop.

Potter pulled out a box from the large bag. He tapped the top of the box, once, and it unfurled itself and a number of dishes resized up. He then sat down, pulling his chair right up against Draco’s.

“So, what is it _supposed_ to be?” Draco said.

“Peanut chilli rice, aloo gobi, and cardamon spiced trifle,” he said, grinning. “I bet you’ve never had any of these before.”

“I _have_ eaten trifles,” Draco scoffed. “Let’s see, then.” He took a fork and started on the rice. Potter took another fork, and also tucked in, the wanker.

Potter’s eyes shuttered closed as he gave a deep hum. “Taste that?” he murmured. “Roasted peanuts, fresh coriander and that bayleaf and a squeeze of lime.”

Draco licked his lips and went for another mouthful. Now that Potter had named it, Draco _could_ taste those components. “You said that for the camera. Did you bat your eyelashes, too?”

Potter rolled his eyes and bumped Draco’s shoulder. “Tell me it’s good!”

Draco glanced at Potter, and looked back at the food. “It’s good,” he conceded, scooping up some more. “I particularly like the texture difference between the peanuts and the rice.”

Potter pressed his lips together, the corners going up. “Thanks, Malfoy.” He placed his cheek on one propped-up hand and gazed at Draco.

Draco self-consciously pushed back some hair from his face. “And this,” he said, pointing to the aloo gobi. “What is it?”

“Potatoes and cauliflower. Baked til crisp before adding in the spices and stir-frying," Potter said. He moved the dish closer to Draco.

Glancing sidelong at Potter’s wide, expectant expression, Draco took a bite. “Even better,” he said, without prompting.

Potter smiled, tilting his head. “I’m good, aren’t I. Don’t you think I would make a good househusband?”

Draco choked. “ _Pardon_?”

The corner of Potter’s mouth quirked up. “I was going to be Ginny’s trophy husband.”

Draco forced away the wave of irrational jealousy--why did it _matter_ that Potter might have been Weasley’s husband? “But you’re not.”

“I haven’t seen you out on a date with your partner. Unless they can cook.”

“Potter. I’d _need_ a partner first.”

“I’m surprised,” Potter said in an unsurprised voice as he reached for the aloo gobi himself. He had a secret little smile, too. “No arranged marriage?”

“I work with my _hands_. Cancelling an arranged marriage is _nothing_.” Draco struck his fork against Potter’s. “Isn’t this food supposed to be _mine_?”

Potter slouched back, brows drawing together. “But I’m hungry, too…” His eyes flickered down Draco’s body and back up again, so quickly Draco was sure he’d imagined it. It didn’t stop Potter’s eyes from being very, very green though.

“Help yourself,” Draco said, nudging the dish towards Potter. “I can’t have you fainting in my workshop.”

Potter shot him a quick grin. “Awww, you care!”

Draco scoffed and went back to the peanut chilli rice.

* * *

Potter stayed after lunch. “Even if you’re working on something else,” he said.

Draco conceded (and ignored how he’d been doing so increasingly often). “I’ll start on the last part of your commission. Sit right _there_ while I fetch the different woods.”

“ _Wood_?” Potter gave Draco a silly grin.

Draco rolled his eyes and summoned some small slabs of wood with different grains and colours. “Your favourite?”

“ _That_ one almost matches your skin,” Potter said, pointing to a light maple.

“But which would you prefer to _handle_?”

“You,” Potter said.

Draco blinked. “This one, then,” he said, selecting out the block of oak and sending the rest flying back to storage. “Now don’t touch anything,” Draco reminded him.

Potter nodded, pulling out his camera. “Yes, sir.”

They went back over the metal, where Draco first traced out the handle shape he wanted. He made a rough cut in the wood, and made two halves that would be affixed together to make the handle. Then, there was the laborious process of sanding both parts down, to follow the gentle curving shape Draco wanted, and to feel comfortable to grip.

Draco stopped when he decided that it was time to move onto a finer sanding belt. He stretched, and that was when he noticed Potter’s movement at the corner of his eye. Potter was wandering around his workshop, poking at metal and dangerous tools.

“ _Potter!_ ” Draco said. “Come here.”

Potter gave him a grin and walked over. “Hey, Malfoy.”

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“If you don’t want to film the process, then you could simply leave.”

“No, I’m good!”

Draco narrowed his eyes but returned to work.

_CLUNK!_

Draco flinched and scanned his workshop. Potter was on the far side of the workshop, so Draco stepped and Apparated over.

“ _Potter._ ”

One of Draco’s metal toolboxes was tipped over its side. With a sigh, Draco lifted the box back to rights with a grunt. “Now come on, Potter.”

Potter liked his lips, then nibbled on his bottom lip. “You’re strong.” He leaned forward, right up against Draco.

“Potter—”

Potter’s head was lowered, eyes looking up at Draco. “You could bend me over. Punish me.” His eyes trailed down Draco’s body.

Draco’s eyes followed down. Potter’s bulge was clear.

It felt like an explosion of revelation in Draco’s mind. “ _That_ is what you wanted the entire time? Why on _earth_ did you go through all this faff about a _commission_?”

“I can’t help it! I didn’t _plan_ —” Potter pouted.

Draco looked at him.

Potter stopped pouting, and rolled his eyes. “You were working topless, so _forgive_ me, Malfoy.”

A bolt of arousal went through Draco. “You’re such an idiot, Potter.” Despite that, Draco found himself pressing Potter back into the bench. Potter gave the _most adorable_ gasp, and Draco _had_ to reach a hand down to palm Potter’s growing erection through his trousers. “Absolutely barmy,” Draco said. “Were you filming _me_ or my work?”

“You,” Potter admitted. Hi’s cheeks flushed red, his eyes half lidded. He reached up and lay his hands on Draco’s upper arms. “But you _like_ it, Malfoy.”

And maybe _that_ made _Draco_ the idiot. “Turn around, arse out,” Draco said instead.

Potter made a sound of delight and quickly turned around, bending over the bench. Tilting his arse up, he looked over his shoulder at Draco and pulled his trousers and pants down to mid thigh.

“Not much of a punishment if you _want_ it,” Draco groused at Potter’s cheeky grin. Draco’s eyes wandered down the curve of Potter’s back, to the golden brown expanse of Potter’s arse.

 _Oh, I’m fucked_. It looked so soft. So inviting. Draco’s hand hovered over one arsecheek. He could almost feel the curve of it, and he _could_ feel the flickers of Potter’s magic across his skin.

“Is it good?” Potter asked. “Go on, touch. Unless you’re scared…”

Draco’s hand descended in a slap. Potter hissed. “C’mon, Malfoy, _harder_.”

“Don’t taunt me, Potter.” The skin was not red. Draco slapped harder, eliciting a moan from Potter. Gently, Draco rubbed the skin. It was soft, and heated and just imagining it against Draco’s cock had him stiffening further.

Potter wriggled, sticking his arse out even more. Chest balanced against the bench, he reached back and pulled his own arse cheeks apart. Draco sucked in a sharp breath when he saw the glint of a silver plug.

“You had this on the _entire_ time,” he breathed, leaning in closer.

“I thought this might happen,” Potter said, tone bright..

Draco pushed away Potter’s hands and slapped his arse. Then, he pulled back one cheek and nudged the base of the plug.

“ _Yes_ ,” Potter gasped.

“Isn’t this quite _presumptuous_ of you?”

“I’m Harry Potter. Luck comes my way,” Potter said smugly.

Draco slapped his arse again, and damnable Potter _enjoyed_ it, back arching, arse tilted up. Draco grasped the plug. “I wonder how _big_ it is…” he murmured, as he started to pull it out.

Potter exhaled heavily, head dropping onto pillowed arms on the bench. “It’s made out of metal.”

And that metal was as warm as Potter. It was charmed malleable. The base was attached to a flexible thin rod; however, it was followed by some resistance. Laying one hand on Potter’s back, Draco wriggled and tugged. Potter groaned, muscles flexing.

Draco had _not_ expected the round metal sphere that popped out.

Potter didn’t have a mere _plug_ up his arse. He had fucking _anal beads_.

“Could I commission a sex toy?” Potter asked, looking over his shoulder at Draco.

Draco raised a brow. “One _perfectly_ tailored to you? Something that _I_ could control remotely?”

Potter’s eyes became hazy. “ _Hmmm_ , yes.”

Draco tugged, and out came another metal sphere, Potter’s hole tightening in its wake.

“ _Yes_ ,” Potter hissed. “It feels so good.”

Draco’s cock became hard, _unbearable_ , trapped in the confines of his pants. He braced one hand on Potter’s arse and started tugging out the beads. They popped out with an obscene sound in the slick slide of lube, leaving Potter’s hole _open_ and _fluttering_. In total, there were _five_ beads; Draco left them levitating an arms length away—he didn’t want them touching his work benches. Draco cast a shield charm over Potter’s cock, and his own for good measure.

“You don’t _have_ to,” Potter said.

Draco reached around and grasped Potter’s cock. “ _What_ was that? Who’s in charge here?” He pressed his hips forward, cock sliding against Potter’s arse.

Potter’s hips stuttered. “ _But_ your magic on my dick feels _really_ good.” He squirmed, trying to fuck Draco’s hand. “C’mon, Malfoy. Pound me with your hot steel. Impale that heated metal deep inside me—”

Draco groaned. “ _Potter_ , really. Have you been hitting straight men erotica?”

“No,” Potter said, sounding quite upbeat. “ _Those_ are even worse. _Oh_ , ejaculate violently in me, Malfoy, let your semen pour from you, and overflow my arse—”

Draco decided that there was just one way to shut Potter up. Draco gripped his cock and pressed in. Potter’s hole opened up _smoothly_ , and very soon, Draco was balls deep.

“ _Fuck_ ,” both of them said.

Draco half-slumped over Potter, fingers digging into his hips. Potter’s arse gripped him just as much as Potter’s _magic_ gripped Draco. His hips started to move. Each slide sent feeling rolling across Draco’s cock, up his body.

“It feels _good_ , right?” Potter asked. He tightened around Draco.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, _yes_ ,” he said. “You would make a _great_ house husband for a lucky person.”

“Not for you?”

Draco’s heart clenched a little. “Do you think I’m lucky enough?”

“If you fuck me good.”

Draco’s fingers on Potter tightened. His hips snapped, a hiss escaping as he pulled out and pushed back into that delicious slick heat. “Hard _enough_?” he growled.

Potter moaned, his own body pressing back up against Draco. “ _Harder_ , Malfoy.”

Draco set a rhythm as steady as pounding steel to sword. The way moans and gasps dropped obscenely from his mouth, the way Potter’s body trembled and shivered and clenched had Draco’s mind melting. Potter felt hot like a forge, but Draco's cock seemed to just get harder and harder.

Every single moan from Potter, every gasp, every ripple of muscle under Draco’s hands was an aphrodisiac.

“You’re _so damn good_ ,” Draco groaned. How could Draco ever get enough, now that he _knew_ what this felt like?

“Oh, _Draco_ —I’m going to come—fuck—you’re so hard, it’s too good—” Potter buried his head in arms, back arching. “Can I come?”

His name upon Potter’s lips, the _request_ of permission—“ _Yes_ ,” Draco had to say. He reached one hand round for Potter’s cock, and as he tugged it, Potter started to tremble. “You can come,” he growled. “You feel so damn good. _You’re_ good.”

“Harry. Call me _Harry_.”

“Come, Harry.”

Potter cried out, hot come spilling into the shield charm. Draco’s thrusts grew faster, pushing in as deep as he fucking possibly could, hips pressed flush against Potter. A groan was dragged from Draco’s lips as he came—it felt like Potter pulled the orgasm from Draco, unrelenting and inevitable in a burst of _white-hot-tight_ —

“ _Fuck_.” Draco slumped down over Potter, hips moving in short motions, fading to stillness.

Both of them were breathing heavily. Draco felt as though he was hugging Potter. With his nose pressed near Potter’s neck, Draco realised that Potter smelt nice. And addictive.

Potter shifted. Draco immediately straightened up. “Apologies, Potter, let me pull out—”

Potter turned around the moment Draco’s cock was out. But instead of cleaning up, Potter grabbed Draco by the shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.

 _Ohh_. Draco melted into Potter’s mouth.

“It’s Harry,” Potter whispered against Draco’s mouth. He nibbled on Draco’s bottom lip.

“Harry.”

Harry’s lips curved into a dreamy smile. “Say that again.”

“Harry _Potter_.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, and Draco pressed a light kiss on the tip, making Harry go adorably cross-eyed.

“Are you going to let me work now?” Draco said against Harry’s lips.

Harry pouted. “As long as you’re not working topless. If you are, I want to watch.”

Draco blinked. “Me, _topless_. Merlin, you are such a…”

“Great wizard?” Harry suggested. “Did I mention that I’m attracted to quidditch players and people who work hard steel with their hands?”

Draco pulled Harry flush and kissed the idiot.

“Now go home and leave me to my work,” Draco said, “and get on with _your_ work.”

“ _Only_ if we do it again.”

A sense of anticipatory warmth built up in Draco’s gut. “Was that a good fuck?”

Harry flushed a little, eyes dipping. “Yes. But next time, I get to feel up your arms.” He glanced up, a silent request in his bright green eyes.

And there was nothing that Draco could do other than concede.

* * *

_Some days later_.

  


With the cameras rolling, focused on Harry’s chopping board, Harry used his shimmery new custom-made knife to chop the vegetables for his next recipe. It sliced with ease—Draco was a much fairer hand at knife sharpening than Harry was.

Harry squirmed a little when the metal in his arse started to pulse. _Draco_ , the bastard, was supposed to be working, just like Harry.

But, it gave Harry a thrill knowing that _he had a metal cock up his arse_ as he filmed some of his cooking.

The metal went cool, sending a shiver up Harry’s spine. Harry tried to focus on his work, but the vibrations of the metal became stronger and stronger, until Harry was hard and leaking.

Harry stopped chopping, stopped filming, and cast a quick _Stasis_ over everything. Then, he Apparated to Draco’s workshop.

Draco was leaning against the entrance, smirking. “Hmm, so you felt it, despite the distance.”

“Fuck me,” Harry demanded. He grabbed Draco by the arm and Apparated them back to his bedroom.

“Next time, let _me_ do the Apparating,” Draco said, rubbing his forehead.

Harry slapped Draco’s arse. “We need to get a move on. We _both_ have work.”

“Bossy,” Draco replied, smirking. With a little spin of his fingers, the dildo in Harry’s arse started to ripple.

Harry groaned, half-collapsing onto Draco. “Harder, you bastard.”

“What happened to being a _good boy?_ ” Draco’s hands passed over Harry’s arse, and the fabric _just_ around Harry’s groin and arse disappeared. Then, Draco lifted Harry up in one heave.

“Fuck!” Harry immediately wrapped his legs around Draco’s waist, and his arms around Draco’s neck.

“Request accepted,” Draco drawled. Draco walked them over to the wall, until Harry’s back was pressed against it.

Harry thrilled in the sensation of being carried. “No one’s done _this_ before,” Harry breathed, squirming. He barely needed his arms at all—the firm force against the wall, and Draco’s lift on his legs was enough. He felt almost _weightless_.

Grasping the opportunity, Harry felt up all the lovely muscles on Draco’s arms, and proceeded to unbutton Draco’s shirt to reveal his pecs.

“Hmm, lovely,” Harry murmured.

Draco snorted. He pushed Harry even firmer against the wall, and one hand moved to pull out the metal dildo in Harry’s arse.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Harry’s stomach dropped at the feeling of emptiness, and the buzzing need to be filled again. “ _Draco_.”

“Patience.” He manoeuvred Harry up higher on his waist. Harry held his breath, sensation heightening when he felt the blunt press of Draco’s cock.

“ _Yess_ ,” Harry moaned, head thudding back against the wall. Draco’s cock was hotter, larger, _more_ , than the metal fake. Harry could feel Draco’s muscles flexing under his hands.

Then, Draco started to move. Each thrust had Harry pushed into, up against the wall. Draco’s chest against his front, the unyielding wall against his back, Harry felt trapped in the most delicious way possible.

“ _Yess_ , impale me with your hot metal,” Harry gasped out.

Draco growled. “You _fucking_ —” He leaned in and captured Harry’s lips, swallowed all of Harry’s gasps and moans. Harry felt light-headed, like he could _float away_ upon the cradle of Draco’s embrace. Harry wrapped a hand around Draco’s shoulders, and his other hand around his leaking cock.

“ _Come on, wank yourself_ ,” Draco ordered, muscles flexing. His grip tightened around Harry, and suddenly _they were moving_ and _fuck_ Harry felt so _weightless_ and he wanted to squirm. A beat later, he was laid back against the bed, legs pushed wider apart as Draco thrust in deep as _fuck_.

“ _Good_ ,” Draco said. “ _Good, good, good._ ”

Something shifted inside Harry’s chest, and he was coming across his fingers, pleasure bursting from his arse and spreading up his body.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco thrust in, grinding against Harry and pulsed hot inside Harry. With a groan, he slumped down on the bed next to Harry.

Harry felt loose and content. He stroked Draco’s arm idly, feeling all that skin. Arms that had carried _Harry_.

Draco huffed. “What did I say about trashy erotica?”

“I can’t help it,” Harry said, grinning, as he rolled up on top of Draco. “You’re just too good.” He buried his face in Draco’s chest. “ _Hmmm_ , yummy.”

Draco groaned. But given that he then wrapped his arms around Harry into a tight hug, Harry knew that Draco liked him.

And at that, Harry grinned, settling into Draco’s embrace, for he was exactly where he had set out to be.

  


_The End._

  


  


  


  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Harry: *bumps into stuff in Draco's workshop on purpose*  
> Draco: Oh, for Hephaestus's sake.  
> Harry: He married the goddess of love, didn't he? *winks*  
> Draco: *groans fondly*


End file.
